


My Soulmate (Who Lives In Orlais)

by ContreParry



Series: Soulmate AU Collection [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Modern Thedas, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn Romance, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: Carver Hawke has never felt worthy of a soulmate, but he is tired of waiting and wondering. Felix Alexius never thought he would find his soulmate, and he's ready to see what could be.





	1. Chapter 1

Carver grew up lonely.

Well, that was not entirely truthful. Carver Hawke was born into a loving family with a mother, father, and older brother. He was brought into the world with a twin sister. He had a large, wonderful, obnoxiously invasive family that was always in his business. He was never truly alone.

But he was lonely.

Garrett and Bethany were just like Da, with power running through their veins and magic at their fingertips. Garrett was a carbon copy of their Da, large frame and boisterous laugh and surprising tenderness under the wild exterior. Bethany was like Mum, dainty and sweet and refined with a rod of steel under the porcelain skin. But Carver just fell somewhere between the two extremes. He was big and strong and rough looking like Da and Garrett, but softer and shyer than his Mum and Bethany. He couldn’t use magic like his siblings and the pastimes of the aristocracy bored him to tears, so he was always a little bit lonely, the odd duck in a family of Hawkes.

But it would be different with a soulmate, Carver told himself as he lay in his bed at ten, fifteen, twenty years old. It was always different with a soulmate.

Da broke into a soulmate record vault in Kirkwall to discover his soulmate. He got help from a friendly Templar, tracked down his match, and wooed her. They ran away together and lived happily in Ferelden before giving birth to Garrett. A few years later Carver and Bethany were born. It was romantic and beautiful and perfect, just like his siblings were beautiful and romantic and perfect.

Garrett didn’t have a soulmark, one of the rare documented cases. But he never let that stop him. He had two (two!) partners, a rich social life, and was never subjected to the ostracism of his mage and markless status. Garrett made his own luck, just like he found his own loves. Carver hated that he was jealous of his brother, who had struggled so much with what life dealt him. He shouldn’t be jealous of Garrett, who was big-hearted and deserved a soulmate more than most people in the world.

Bethany had a soulmate, a man from a noble family in Ferelden who ran off and joined the Wardens. He was the reason she joined, running off after their father died to chase her dreams of magic and soulmates alone. Carver hated that he was jealous of her too, his small twin sister who was nothing but sweet. She chased her soulmate down and fought for her right to love. She earned her soulmate.

Carver hated how small and bitter his jealousy made him feel. What had he done to deserve a soulmate anyways? He glared at the beautifully intricate orange sun symbol that conveniently circled his belly button. He didn’t earn the mark the way his father and mother and sister had. Garrett deserved it more than he did. What had Carver done to be worthy of a soulmate? He had to do something, not sit around and help his brother in his journalistic adventures. He had to do more.

So Carver joined Kirkwall’s Templar Order.

It wasn’t a difficult decision. They were recruiting fresh blood free from the stink of corruption. Meredith took down half the order with her once her actions behind closed doors were exposed to the public. It seemed even notoriously criminal Kirkwall took issue with the trafficking of living people (especially mages) and the illegal lyrium trade. She was quickly ousted, and in her place her second in command took charge. But they needed more change, fresh faces, better people.

And Carver figured, why not? He was just as qualified as any other recruit, and he could keep an eye on Templars taking advantage of mages. He could keep Bethany and Garrett safe, like they always tried to protect him. And maybe, just maybe, he could prove himself worthy of his soulmate.

So after nearly a year on the job, when he finally felt like he had earned the right to start searching, Carver went to a reputable soulmatching agency and filled out the proper paperwork. The girl behind the counter, a dwarf with multiple highlights in lyrium blue and Arashok red in her brown hair, popped her bubblegum and held up a camera.

“Soulmark location?” The girl recited, popping her gum sharply to emphasize her question.

“Uh, stomach.” Carver mumbled.

“Color?” She asked after writing something down on Carver’s file.

“Orange?” Carver wasn’t quite sure what the girl wanted him to say. Did she want a specific color? Did she expect him to say it was it bright orange, or burnt orange, or that pretentious blood orange (it’s fucking red, just say red!) It was just orange!

“Okay, lift up your shirt.” Carver did as instructed, there was a hasty click, and the picture was taken.

“Damn, boy, you’re shredded!” The girl whistled before putting her camera down and connecting it to the computer on her desk. “So I’ll just get this printed out and we’ll send this baby on its way to the main office! You should get something back in about one to three months.” She sounded much more cheerful after the photograph. Carver wondered if flashing his stomach would get him other benefits.

“Thanks.” Carver mumbled, and that was it. It was truly that simple. Carver signed the paperwork and was at work fifteen minutes later. Cullen was particularly short tempered today, rubbing his right wrist and barking orders at every recruit close enough to hear him. Carver just bent his head and shuffled through more paperwork. Rebuilding the Templar Order after Meredith decimated it so spectacularly was going to be an utter bitch of a task.

“Carver Hawke, where did you put that file on lyrium smugglers?” Cullen shouted from his office. The secretary outside winced and scurried off to pour herself another mug of tea. 

“Black filing cabinet, third drawer down, ten folders back.” Carver shouted back. There was silence, and then a slightly quieter “Thank you” from Cullen before the office descended back into its regular busy hum.

As stressful and strange as his job was, Carver enjoyed himself. He liked making a difference, helping others instead of hiding behind his mother’s title and brother’s fame. Carver liked being his own person, and being a new face with new ideas in the Templar Order was his way of being different.

If only his brother saw it that way.

“I just don’t get why you had to become a Templar!” Garrett complained before digging into a bowl of some kind of Rivani fish stew. Dinner with Garrett and his girlfriends was always a culinary mish-mash of whatever Merrill decided to try out. This week they were all treated to the aforementioned fish stew, a salad full of wild greens and flowers, and a gigantic coconut cake with pineapple in it. Carver poked at a purple-pink flower that looked like a clover. Was it even edible?

“Hush, Hawke. The baby Hawke can be wherever he likes, you know. Hunt whatever his chooses, take flight any time he wants. Preen his feathers and shit on furniture or whatever- the metaphor may have gotten away from me.” Isabela rambled before winking at Carver. Why did she always wink? Carver felt himself flush whenever she did that.

“I think it's wonderful!” Merrill said decisively. “You’re a very honest person, Carver. Kirkwall needs honest people like you to take charge.” Merrill smiled sweetly at him, and Carver almost wished that she was his soulmate. Merrill was smart and kind and beautiful in that delicate sort of way birds and tiny flowers were beautiful. And Merrill knew how to listen. But Carver knew that Merrill’s soulmate was dead, and he would never want to take her from Garrett or Isabela. Her sweet earnestness balanced out their salty sarcasm. They needed her as much as she needed them.

But Carver could selfishly admit that having a soulmate he already knew would be easier to deal with. At least there wouldn’t be any confusion, or physical distance, or the awkwardness of getting to know someone who you were supposed to be close to but was a stranger.

“But a Templar!” Garrett muttered. A quick jab of Isabela’s elbow to his ribs shut Garrett up, and they ate dinner in relative peace. Carver returned to his apartment with several dishes of leftovers, lovingly packed by Merrill. Carver stuffed it in the fridge next to the beer and cold pizza. At least he had something relatively healthy to eat, Carver thought with a twinge of guilt (and perhaps fear). Cullen would murder him if he knew that Carver survived on a diet of takeout and meals from his brother’s girlfriends and his mom and her housekeeper Oranna. Perhaps murder was an exaggeration. Cullen would assign the strictest exercise regimen and scold him as he benched weights, ran miles, and did squats. Carver groaned and pulled out his phone. Exercise!

“Fen, sorry for ditching gym today, Garrett wanted to have dinner.” Carver typed out as he flopped down on his ugly blue couch with the rosebud pattern printed on the fabric. Carver turned on the television and mindlessly flipped through channels as he tried to relax after the day.

“You were lucky. Aveline came in today.” Fenris replied a minute later. Carver could almost hear Fenris’s dry tone through the text. There were few people in the world with a complete mastery of deadpan snark, but Carver believed Fenris was a master. The master, really. Maybe he murdered all the other snarky people and took their snark for himself.

“Oh?” Carver typed out. Fenris was clearly texting a paragraph, because the text bubble pulsed a bright green as he typed.

“She claimed she was working off the baby weight.” Fenris replied. “Do not mention the baby weight. Athenril dragged herself to the locker room when Aveline was done with her.”

“How did you escape?” Carver asked, because Aveline was a merciless training partner. Carver didn’t know what Donnic saw in her. She was as bossy as a mother and always thought she knew best. But, Carver amended with a little bit of sheepishness, she was responsible and kind in a stern sort of way. Aveline was a good woman with a generous heart.

“She was distracted.” Fenris texted. “I retreated to the yoga mats for stretching before she demanded I skip rope or do pull ups.”

“Planning to join the ballet, Fenris?” Carver teased.

“My choreography is improving, and my pas de chat is impeccable.” Fenris retorted. “Good night, Carver.”

“Get some sleep, asshole.” Carver replied, and he set his phone down. He fell asleep on the couch watching re-runs of Haunted House Hunters. He woke up with a sore neck and vague dreams of the show’s demon expert appearing and demanding he strip and perform an exorcism ritual on his apartment to rid his home of spirits.

Carver pulled himself off the couch and stumbled into the shower. No more falling asleep in front of the television, he told himself. He was going to sleep on a bed at a reasonable hour and get up earlier for a morning jog. Maybe he could convince Fenris to join him. Fenris was a weirdo who barely slept.

Carver hurried to work, grabbing a bagel from a bag. No time to toast it, he told himself as he chewed and sesame seeds crunched between his teeth. Back to the daily grind, back to his reports and patrols, back to this new routine. Carver hoped that this routine would keep him together as he waited for news about his soulmate. Carver hoped he would be good enough for his soulmate. Carver hoped that he could be more than a jealous sibling and misfit. Carver hoped that someday he would belong. But he worried, as he always did. Was he good enough for his soulmate? Would his soulmate even like him? No one liked him that much, he was sour and harsh and put his foot in his mouth too many times to be liked. Even Fenris, who was notoriously caustic as a rule, could maintain an air of civility. Would Carver just fuck everything up like he always did? What if his own soulmate learned to hate him? These thoughts followed Carver like a particularly gloomy fog, and he couldn’t find any solace in his mind numbing work of filing old cases on demons lurking in the older sections of the city.

He called Bethany on his lunch break, because Bethany was Bethany and Bethany knew him best. If anyone could help him untangle the muddled mess of his emotional turmoil, it would be Bethany. She always knew what to say when to say it.

“Carver? Is something wrong?” Bethany exclaimed. “I can get a flight to Kirkwall for tomorrow morning, Nate won't mind. Is mother sick again? Did Garrett do something stupid?” Carver could hear his sister’s mind whirl with an impossible amount of disastrous possibilities that would have prompted Carver to call her.

“No, I just- I just wanted to talk.” Carver mumbled. He sat on a bench in the park across the street from the Templar headquarters. His sandwich sat on his lap, unwrapped and uneaten. In the face of Bethany’s worry his fears sounded stupid and insignificant. Maybe he shouldn’t have called.

“You mean need to talk, Carver.” Bethany corrected gently. “What’s up?”

“I submitted my paperwork to find my soulmate.” Carver mumbled. He felt like an idiot.

Why was he worrying about all this? It was highly unlikely that he would find his soulmate anyways. How many people submitted themselves anyways? Mages were required by law to register in most countries, Tevinter being an exception. There were mage rights groups pushing to repeal those laws, but there was little chance of the law being overturned. But there were many people didn’t bother searching for a soulmate, the romantic tales and media be damned.

“Carver, that’s wonderful!” Bethany said. “Did you find out who they are, yet?”

“It’s only been a week, Bethy.” Carver replied. Just a week and he already had his doubts. He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t good enough. He never would be good enough.

“Ah. I’m proud of you, Carver.” Bethany said. “I know you were really reluctant to look for them, so what changed your mind?”

“It’s dumb.” Carver admitted.

“Try me.” Bethany urged.

“I just, thought I was ready. That’s all.” Carver muttered.

“Oh Carver.” The sympathy in Bethany’s voice broke the lock in Carver’s throat, and old hurts and fears spewed out.

“I’m not like you and Garrett. I’m not- not good with people. Or good at much. But now I think I’m in a good enough place to start looking, you know?” Carver tried to laugh but it only sounded like a choked off, bitter little thing. “I told you it was dumb.”

“Carver, it’s not dumb to want to find your soulmate.” Bethany insisted. “Why do you think I went to look for Nathaniel?”

“Because he sent you a handwritten letter begging you not to look for him because he was unworthy of you and you got pissed off?” Carver remembered the letter, and he remembered how angry Bethany was when she first read it. He remembered how she stormed around the house screaming about what a self centered, self pitying, over-chivalrous asshole her soulmate was, when she wasn’t sighing over his perfect penmanship and the tragic romanticism of sending a letter when an email would have done just as well.

“Well yes, but it was a lot more than that.” Bethany insisted. “Carv, I went looking for Nate because I didn’t fit in back home.”

“You?” Carver couldn’t believe it. Bethany was so… so well liked! So perfectly behaved and sweet! And she thought she didn’t belong?

“You and Garrett are great brothers, the best in the world, but you’d never let me do anything on my own.” Bethany explained. “And mother was always a little disappointed in me, I think. You know how I am at parties. I can’t play nice when people are so nasty to each other.”

“Yeah. You can be a monster at parties.” Carver remembered how frightening Bethany could be when she perceived some sort of injustice, whether it was a girl being ostracized from society or a rivalry that was getting out of hand. Bethany’s solutions were as swift and harsh as lightning: a bottle of red wine spilled down a dress, a subtle scolding, or even a severe one depending on the situation. Bethany was a lightning storm of indignation at aristocratic parties.

“I just didn’t fit in. But finding Nate, being with the Wardens, I have a place here. I fit.” Bethany said gently. “And you deserve to find a place and person to fit with too, Carver. Don’t let yourself think otherwise.” Though her voice was soft her tone was firm. Commanding, even. When did Bethany become so certain of herself?

“You always know what to say, Bethy.” Carver said. He could feel his throats tightening up and tears pricking at his eyes.

“Someone had to, in our family.” Bethany teased. “I’ll be back at Satinalia, Carv.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Bethany.”

“Love you, Carver. And you deserve a soulmate, Carver, as much as anyone else.” Bethany said. “Believe me.”

Carver couldn’t believe it, not in his heart of hearts, but he tried his best. He kept marching along as he always did, sarcastic, glum observations and all. Carver tried to maintain an optimistic view on his future. Perhaps he would find a soulmate who wanted him and the life he could offer. Perhaps he could have a rich relationship that his parents and siblings had with their partners. Perhaps he would be lucky.

But you aren’t the lucky one, the doubts in his mind whispered maliciously. You’re the middle child. You have no luck in your bones. Who would want you? Who would hold you at night when you can’t sleep, who would give you comfort? No one will come for you and you will be alone.

Carver did his best to ignore those voices, and went to another person who understood him.

“Don’t vomit on the bar top. I just polished it.” Fenris said dryly as Carver sat down at a stool in Isabela's bar. It was a busy enough night, but Fenris had everything well in hand, his green eyes watching every customer and every glass. Nothing happened in the bar that Fenris did not know about. Isabela was going to be seriously distraught if Fenris decided to leave for better opportunities. Carver knew of more than a few people (his brother and Varric Tethras included) who were eager to snatch Fenris up for his wide range of knowledge and skills as an interpreter. But Fenris seemed content mixing drinks and trading sardonic remarks with customers and the occasional fist fight.

“I haven't even had a drink yet, Fen.” Carver muttered, and Fenris set an empty glass down behind the bar top.

“I know. But you seem troubled.” Fenris said calmly. “A troubled mind seeks inebriation, and I do not want to call your brother in to carry you out when you are too drunk to stand.”

“Not happening, Fenris.” Carver sighed. “Just one Orzammar red ale. 24 ounces.”

“Very well.” Fenris poured him a glass from the tap and handed it over. Carver drank and let the caramel and fruity flavor wash over his tongue. Fenris leaned against the counter and raised one eyebrow as he watched Carver drink.

“I am no therapist, but I can listen.” Fenris said, his voice stern but his green eyes kind. No one really saw the kindness and concern in Fenris, but Carver knew it. Fenris was a good friend. Carver knew Fenris would listen. Carver knew Fenris would listen and understand his concerns. The words poured out when he opened his mouth.

“Do you know your soulmate?” Carver asked Fenris.

“No.” Fenris’s mouth turned down into a scowl. “I do not.”

“Me neither.” Carver confessed. “And I don’t know if looking for them is a good thing. Or the right thing to do.” Bethany would have insisted it was right. Garrett would say Carver had to go out and find his soulmate. Fenris just listened, and let Carver talk.

“I’m not ready for a soulmate! It sounds stupid but it’s true! I’m barely able to take care of myself!” Carver exclaimed. “How am I supposed to take care of a soulmate, Fenris?”

“A soulmate isn’t a puppy, Carver. You don’t have to wipe their ass.” Fenris retorted. “I doubt my soulmate would be interested in me.”

“You?” Carver couldn't believe it. Fenris was smart and witty and had a great sense of humor under the brooding expressions on his face. Also he could take on two Qunari in a fist fight and win, which, in Carver’s opinion, was just plain badass. Who wouldn’t want Fenris?

“I’m a barely literate elven refugee with a tendency to be bitter and cold towards strangers. I am no prize.” Fenris explained with an almost over exaggerated patience. “You, however, are far kinder. If you seek a soulmate you will find them, and they will find you.” That seemed to settle the matter in Fenris’s mind, and he turned his attention to a group of women celebrating some milestone if the collected shrieking and demands for drinks was anything to go by. Carver nursed his drink and considered Fenris’s words, paid off his tab, and waved goodbye before he walked down the street to his apartment.

Not many people would describe him as kind, Carver knew. Grumpy, obstinate, bitter, a bit of a dick- he’d heard all that and more in his time. But Carver had not heard kind. Fenris wasn’t the sort to tell lies for the sake of good manners. Fenris was honest to a fault. Carver knew a little of Fenris's past. He wasn’t privy to the whole sordid tale, but he knew enough and he knew that Fenris did not have much experience with kindness. It was either great praise or great damnation that Fenris thought Carver was kind. Carver just didn't know which it was.

He didn’t really want to know.

The week went by in a blur of normalcy. Carver woke early and ate a quick breakfast, went to work on various cases involving magic and demons, and then went back home and fell asleep (usually in his bed). The dull daily grind was highlighted here and there by a few visits with his friends and family. Garrett stopped by the Templar station with a bag of Ferelden style fast food and tried to snoop around for the scoop on his articles. Bethany called and asked how he was feeling. Merrill and Isabela came by, Merrill to offer a mixture of herbal tea from her shop and Isabela to tease him for drinking too much. Varric slyly asked for an interview for “character development ideas,” whatever that meant. Aveline waved hello a few times when Templar and Kirkwall Guard business intersected. When he went to the Chantry on a Sunday morning with his mother, Carver talked to Sebastian. Fenris went to the gym with him and helped Carver train. He had family and friends, even if they annoyed him all the time and stuck their noses in his business.

Carver was still terrified when he opened his box in the mailroom and a thick envelope nearly fell out. The soulmate agency had gotten back to him. Carver hurried up to his room, taking the stairs two at a time until he sat down on his couch and the envelope lay on the coffee table, white against the dark wood.

Open it, he thought. Open it and be done with it! But he could not open it. He wasn't worthy yet, he wasn’t ready yet, he wasn't good enough- damn it all! Carver took a deep breath and tore the envelope open.

“Not this time.” Carver muttered at the doubts swirling in his head and heart. “Not this fucking time.” He wouldn’t have his own fear and doubt take this moment from him. Carver skimmed through the greeting, the standard “Congratulations” message from the company. His chest felt tight as he tried to calm himself and breathe. A name, a name, what was his soulmate’s name?

Felix Alexius.

Carver let out his breath in a slow, even sigh. Felix Alexius. Felix. He had a soulmate and his name was Felix. Carver smiled. Felix. Felix, Felix, Felix. He read further into the file. Felix Alexius, born in Minrathous, Tevinter. Currently residing in Val Royeux, Orlais. A scientist. Altus mage. Carver turned the page and stared at the pictures included in the file. A picture of the soulmark, and a picture of the soulmate. Traditional.

But Maker, Carver didn’t expect the punch of heat and lust in his gut when he saw his soulmate for the first time.

Felix had dark hair, cropped short and neat. His skin was a warm tan, and his eyes were dark and intelligent. But it was Felix’s smile that got to Carver, a sheepish, shy sort of smile that Carver felt like he knew. The soulmark was Carver’s match, obviously, orange against tan skin, sun circling his belly button. But where Carver was pale and fit, Felix was tan and slightly soft around the middle. They looked so different from each other. They seemed so different from each other. Carver liked it.

He didn’t send Felix a message that night. He wanted some time to think, to consider the best way to approach the subject of them. If Carver got his letter now, then Felix should receive his soon. Mages received their soulmate match letters later than a non-mage, and they could never initiate contact. They were required to put themselves into the system at age eighteen. It was a holdover of Chantry doctrine, but it still held strong. Carver would have to speak with Felix first. But how could he speak to him?

Hello, my name is Carver Hawke. I live in Kirkwall, Free Marches, and I’m your soulmate. No, Carver decided. That seemed more like a child’s pen pal assignment, not a letter between two grown men and soulmates. Or was it? It was professional, it didn’t make grand assumptions, and most of all it was the truth. He tugged out his laptop and started composing a message for his soulmate. For Felix.

To Felix Alexius,

Hello. My name is Carver Hawke, and I’m your soulmate. I’m sorry I haven’t done this sooner or written something better, but I couldn’t think of what to say so I thought I might as well say it and get it over with.

I live in Kirkwall, in the Free Marches, and work as a Templar. I’m a Knight-Corporal, and I specialize in rogue demon cases. I joined to help clean up the mess that the former Knight Commander left behind. You probably heard about it. Who hasn't? But I thought you should know who I am and what you’d be getting into if you and I decided to get to know each other better.

Maybe this is all a big shock to you. I waited a long time to start looking, so I wouldn’t blame you if you’re mad at me. Sorry that it took so long for me to start looking for you. I hope we can at least be friends. You can ask me anything. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to write beautiful words or be clever or anything, but I’ll always be honest with you.

Sorry for rambling. I hope we can talk soon.

Carver Hawke

And before Carver could lose his nerve, he hit send. Five minutes later he started panicking.

What was he thinking? It must be- Carver glanced at his alarm clock- it was about 7 at night here in Kirkwall, so it would be… it would be around 10 in Val Royeux, if Felix was still in the city. He might be somewhere else. He could be in Tevinter, as far as Carver knew. Clearly Carver wasn’t thinking when he wrote that email. He wasn’t thinking at all.

What's done is done, Carver told himself. Eat something, go for a jog, and get some sleep. It’s for the best. Carver returned to his routine and tried to remain calm, even if remaining calm meant snapping a bit more at his friends and family, burying himself in paperwork and patrols, and having a beer or two at Isabela’s bar while he and Fenris traded caustic observations about the world. He received a reply two days later.

Hello, Carver!

I’m sorry I waited so long to reply to you! I had to make sure you were who you said you were, and then I got the documents from the soulmatch agency so I knew for certain you were you, and then I just didn’t know what to write. That makes two of us, if that’s any consolation.

So! My name is Felix Alexius, and I’m an astronomer working at the Val Royeux research laboratories. I’m a mage, Altus rank in the Imperium, so I’m supposed to inherit the rank of Magister when my father dies and taken my place in the Magisterium. But between you and me (and everyone who knows me), politics isn’t exactly my strong point.

I’m very glad you sent me a message, Carver. I didn’t think I’d ever find my soulmate. It’s just not a thing in Tevinter, especially in the upper classes. It’s such a relief to know you want to talk to me. I’m free tomorrow night if you want to chat, around six in the evening Kirkwall time. I’d like to talk with you face to face, as it were. Do you have an Eluvian account? I’ll give you mine so you can add me! I’ll talk with you soon, Carver!

Felix Alexius

P.S. I like your honesty, Carver. It’s refreshing.

Carver read over the message three times to try and get it to stick in his head. Felix Alexius: scientist, Altus mage, his soulmate. And he wanted to talk to Carver. Get to know Carver. He seemed so warm and friendly and everything Carver wanted in a partner. It was everything and more.

“Maker, I’m screwed.” Carver groaned as he stared at the message on his screen. He was well and truly fucked.

Carver went to Merrill. Merrill could be clueless about human customs and could dive into strange, rambling tangents, but Carver knew she would always tell him the absolute truth and offer her help however she could. And he could admit that right now, he needed all the help he could get.

“Oh, Carver. It isn’t that your clothing is ugly, it is just very… casual.” Merrill said gently as she rummaged through his dresser drawers, pale fingers fluttering over basketball shorts and athletic gear. Carver stood at his closet and pulled out more clothing. Uniform, spare uniform, dress blues, winter coat, that black suit Carver swore he would never wear again but he could never bring himself to throw away, that signed Amaranthine Mabaris hockey jersey he hung in the back of the closet and swore he’d get framed eventually… Shit, all these clothes and nothing to wear.

“I’ve never seen you wear anything but your uniform or your sweatpants and fancy gym shirts.” Merrill held up a pale blue dry fit running shirt as an example. “This is very pretty! It matches your eyes!”

“It’s not really appropriate, though.” Carver muttered. He was going to talk to his soulmate, he scolded himself, not present himself for an interview! If Merrill said it looked good it probably looked good.

“What is this for, Carver?” Merrill asked, and her green eyes twinkled with excitement. “Are you… are you going on a date?” When Carver flushed she squealed with delight.

“You are!” Merrill cried joyfully. “You have a date! Oh Carver, how sweet! Is it… it’s your soulmate, isn’t it? Garrett suspected, oh he’ll be so happy! Bring them to dinner so we can get to know them, I’ll bake a cake and-” Merrill was nearly swept away win her enthusiasm, and Carver remembered that Merrill could be naive, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Don’t tell Garrett. Or anyone.” Carver said, cutting off Merrill’s happy monologue. “It’s just a conversation, he doesn’t even live in Kirkwall.”

“Oh.” Merrill’s reaction was like a deflated balloon.

“He’s my soulmate in Val Royeux.” Carver muttered, and when Merrill’s big green eyes turned sad Carver just kept talking.

“I promise, he is real. The file’s on my desk if you really need proof. I’m not making him up.” Carver promised. That was what people said when they hadn’t found their soulmate yet for whatever reason. My soulmate who lives in Val Royeux. It was the much loved, much teased trope of Antivan soap operas, tales of a person who didn't want anyone to know that they had no soulmate yet, so they created one who lived in Val Royeux. Ensue shenanigans and melodrama. But Carver wasn’t lying and this was no soap.

“His name is Felix, and he’s a mage. A Tevinter mage.” Carver added. Merrill folded up the blue shirt she was still holding on to and placed it on the dresser.

“I see why you told me instead of Fenris.” Merrill said softly.

“Yeah. Didn’t want him threatening my soulmate when we don’t even know each other yet.” Carver replied. Fenris would probably hear the words mage and Tevinter and he’d pull on his leather jacket and strap whatever weapons he kept hidden in his apartment on his person before hunting Felix down. Carver liked Felix. At least, he liked what he knew of him. He wasn’t going to let his overprotective friend get to him first.

And the less Garrett knew about Felix the better. He was still upset about Carver joining the Templars. He said it was because he didn’t like the organization, but Carver knew it was more than that. Carver explained his reasoning countless times, but it came down to one simple truth: Garrett didn’t want to see his brother in danger. Carver knew he was using whatever connections he had to keep an eye on him. Overprotective brothers never stopped being overprotective.

“I won’t lie to your brother. You can’t ask that of me, Carver.” Merrill said gently. “But I will tell him to let you lead the discussion. He’ll listen to me.” She patted his shoulder with her pale hand, a friendly, sisterly pat. Carver was glad to count her as a friend, as family.

“Garrett will listen to you?” Carver asked. He didn’t mean to doubt Merrill, but wispy, lithe Merrill looked like she would be bowled over by a strong breeze, never mind his giant brother.

“Isabela says I give the best head.” Merrill said proudly. Carver nearly died as blood rushed to his face. There were many things about his brother and his girlfriends that he did not want to know. Factoids about their sex life was certainly one of those things.

So Carver tried not to panic as he waited for Felix to get online and speak with him. He adjusted his shirt (the pale blue dry fit shirt Merrill liked because he had nothing else) and he held onto his phone to text Bethany for moral support. 

“I feel like an idiot.” Carver texted his sister. The reply came in seconds later.

“If he makes fun of you I’ll punch his pretty face in.” Bethany promised. Carver didn’t doubt her. She had a mean left hook.

“Please don’t.” Carver pleaded. He didn’t want his twin sister to beat up his soulmate, even if things went sour.

“Nathaniel said he’d shoot him too so I’ve got backup.” Bethany sounded almost proud that she convinced her soulmate to go to the dark side.

“You’re a bad influence.” Carver typed.

“You know it.” Bethany added a winking smiling face after the text. Carver rolled his eyes and set his phone next to his computer. He could do this, he told himself. He could do this.

He nearly jumped out of his chair when his computer began singing out the classic Eluvian dialing tone, a cheerful little trill of electronic notes playing down a scale. Carver accepted the call, ran his fingers through his hair, and waited.

“Ah, hello?” A refined voice called out, the voice a little crackled from audio compression, but still an attractive male voice. Proper and educated and faintly accented, and Carver suddenly worried that he was going to sound like a right blockhead.

“Dorian, I’m not getting an image. Did I break the comput- ah no! Hold on a minute-” there was a sound on the other end, and an image flickered to life on Carver’s computer screen. “There we go! Can you hear me?” The refined voice was attached to an equally proper looking man, the man in the soulmate file. Felix. He was smiling that sheepish smile and looked a little flustered, and Carver felt a great urge to tease and comfort and make him laugh. Hormones, Carver told himself. Set your ass down.

“Yeah, I can hear you.” Carver replied, trying to remain calm. “Felix, right?” Felix’s smile only grew brighter, as if that was possible.

“Yes, that would be me. And you’re Carver.” Felix stated. “It’s good to see you in person.” Carver felt himself relax when Felix smiled at him. He had to be doing something right if his soulmate was smiling.

“It’s nice to see you too.” Carver replied. Felix must be one of those people who effortlessly looked good. He wore a pale yellow polo shirt, and his short dark hair was just slightly mussed. But he was handsome and put together, and Carver felt like a complete slob. At least he wore pants, he told himself. He made an effort today. They kept staring at their screens and smiling at each other, and it wasn't half as awkward as Carver thought it would be.

“I really don’t know what to say next.” Felix admitted shyly. “I wrote all these speeches to try and convince you to get to know me before you freaked out about Tevinter and Magisters and blood magic, but now I can’t remember them.” Felix laughed then, a surprisingly deep sound, and it made Carver chuckle as well.

“I think you’re doing a good job.” Carver said. “You’re a scientist in Orlais?” He wondered why a mage from a family in the Magisterium would be interested in science instead of magic, but the question could wait. He wanted to know all about Felix, and Carver wanted to take his time learning everything he could about his soulmate.

“Yes!” Felix sounded excited, and he perked up in his seat. “I study stars. I’m running a summer program for children interested in space and astronomy.” His dark eyes lit up as he mentioned the program, and his hands fluttered around his face as he spoke.

“I convinced the financial backers to allow children of all races and social classes to join in the program, and we have so many budding astronomers already! It might sound silly, but I find it very fulfilling.” Felix added, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

“I don’t think it’s silly.” Carver replied. “It’s the right thing to do.” Carver never held with elitism. Even with money and a title, Carver was still just a Ferelden farm boy who liked a good ale and dogs. Why should people look down on that?

“That’s what I think!” Felix insisted. “How many advances in society have we passed by because someone was not given the proper opportunity to become their best?”

“No one wants to hear about your firebrand ideologies, Felix!” A muffled male voice shouted from somewhere behind Felix. “Tell him you want to drink wine off his six pack!”

“Dorian!” Felix’s warm, tan skin flushed dark red, and his voice nearly squeaked as Dorian cackled from far away. At least Felix looked handsome when embarrassed, Carver observed as his face burnt up to the tips of his ears. He, on the other hand, just looked like a ripe tomato.

“I’m so sorry, Carver. Dorian’s my father’s apprentice and my friend.” Felix mumbled. “He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“You wanted my support!” Dorian called out. “I am supporting you!”

“My sister's texting me, so don’t worry.” Carver glanced at his phone and the text message notifications piling up from Bethany.

“Are you talking to him?”

“Is he cute?”

“Carver tell me is he a Q T pie?”

“Caaaaaaarver!”

“You are the worst!!!!!!!”

“You have a sister?” Felix asked.

“Yeah. Twin sister and an older brother.” Carver replied. “What about you?”

“I’m an only child.” Felix replied. “I would have liked to have siblings.”

“And have your shit stolen and get into fights all the time?” Carver asked. Felix laughed and shook his head.

“There must be positives!” Felix insisted. “Siblings can’t be that much of a burden!”

“Sure. They’re annoying but I know they’ll always have my back.” Carver replied, thinking on Garrett and Bethany and how irritating they could be. How loving they were. They would like Felix, Carver thought, and so would Mum. He really was lucky.

“Most families in the Magisterium have only one child.” Felix said, and he sounded a little wistful. “It’s a bit lonely.”

“It can be lonely with siblings too.” Carver murmured. “You get lost in the crowd, y’know.”

“I hope we can be a little less lonely now.” Felix smiled, and Carver smiled back.

“Yeah. Me too.” Carver replied. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Felix Alexius was always alone.

As the only child of two Tevinter Magisters, Felix was accustomed to loneliness. He had few friends, save for the children whose parents were of the same social status and political alignment of his parents. Finding such people was rare enough in the whole of Tevinter, never mind the smaller city of Asariel. Livia Arida and Gereon Alexius were mavericks, mages of Tevinter who saw far beyond their own lives and works. They imbued their thirst for knowledge and desire to change the world into Felix, their protege and (as they often liked to joke) their greatest contribution to the world.

Felix thought of the old proverb that the wise plant fig trees knowing they will never taste the fruit. His mother would laugh at the phrase and declare she planted fig trees because it was her fucking garden and she would plant whatever she pleased. Doing as she pleased was a sentiment that served her well, and probably saved her son’s life. Felix knew that though his magic came to him at a young age, it was never strong. It was barely strong enough to light candles. His magical failings shamed and enraged his grandfather. It hurt to know that his father’s father would have rather seen his grandson dead that to have a relation with such weak magic. He had made plans to ensure Felix met a terrible end in a tragic accident, but Livia Arida had always been cleverer than her father in law and far more direct. 

Felix could barely muster up an appropriate sorrowful expression for his grandfather’s funeral. Even at the age of seven he knew that his grandfather had not accidentally fallen out of a penthouse window into the busy street below in Minrathous. And even at the age of seven, Felix knew that his grandfather had tried to kill him, and had reaped what he sowed. These violent delights have violent ends, Felix knew. So at the tender age of seven, Felix knew to keep those he cared for close, and those he was unsure about at a polite distance where he could observe their every action while keeping himself protected. No one was truly safe, not even family. There was only one person Felix Alexius knew he could trust.

His soulmate.

“Darling, a soulmate is a precious gift.” His mother told him as she tucked him into bed as a child. “And they will love and treasure you and help you become the best man you can be.”

“And they have the same mark? The same one on my tummy?” Felix asked.

“Of course.” His father said from the doorway. “Just like your mother and I share the same mark behind our ears.” His father grinned then and tapped against that hidden place where a little purple lightning bolt raced down the back of his right ear.

“So they have a big orange sun around their belly button.” Felix remembered that he had looked down at that point in the conversation and tried to wiggle out from under the covers so he could lift his pajama top and stare at the orange sun once again. His mother pinned him down, laughing as Felix squirmed.

“Gereon, we’ve got a live one!” She called out even as she cackled with glee and tickled her son. Felix remembered giggling and whining because he wanted to look at his mark! He wanted to know more!

“Felix, it is time to sleep! We stayed up far past your usual bedtime to watch the meteor shower, and you must sleep now!” His father said sternly, but his lip quivered with a barely repressed laugh as he joined his wife and child. Once all had been settled and put to rights again, Felix’s parents explained soulmates and the many mysteries surrounding the marks that adorned so many people in Thedas. They answered Felix’s questions, and they never dismissed any of them as foolish or beneath them. His mother had kissed his forehead, his father ruffled his hair and smiled, and then Felix was left to sleep. He placed his little chubby hand on his soft stomach right above the soulmark, and he smiled.

“We will be the best of friends, you and I.” Felix promised his soulmate. “The best of friends.” And the next day at breakfast Felix’s father brought down a large collection of ancient books on the philosophy and study of soul marks, and carefully went through the chapters with his son to satisfy Felix’s curiosity. As always, Felix was full of questions and his father was, as always, pleased to answer them to the best of his ability.

Gereon Alexius was always an indulgent father. Felix had known it even as a child, and the older he grew the more he saw how his father often gave great leeway to those he cared for. Felix knew he could do little wrong in his father’s eyes, and that he would do whatever he was able to to protect and teach his son. His mother was much the same way, but Felix knew his father was particularly protective. It had taken the combined efforts of his mother, his collection of private tutors, and his father’s apprentice Dorian Pavus to convince Gereon to let Felix study astronomy in Orlais. Even now his father was stretching his power and privilege to pry into his son’s private life, and even though he knew he meant well Felix couldn’t help but be a little irritated.

“Father, please.” Felix sighed. His father had awoken him at nine o’clock at night, which was the same time in Minrathous. His father was in the city for political business, advocating for the free education of all classes- education was of great importance in the Alexius family- but it seemed Gereon Alexius had more than enough time to wake up his son with a frantic phone call.

“He is a Templar, Felix! And not just any Templar, a Templar from Kirkwall!” His father stressed yet again, his voice tinny over the phone. His father had a rather raspy, higher pitched voice, and was often mocked by his peers in the Magisterium for his voice. His impressive speeches and passion were what made him an influential politician, not his fantastic oratory skills. Right now his voice was drilling a hole into Felix’s head, and he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hand. He was taking a nap! Fasta vass!

“If you know his career, you know that he only joined after the Kirkwall Rebellion and the ousting of Knight Commander Stannard and Grand Cleric Elthina.” Felix said politely. He could not help the testiness that crept into his voice, however. Two in the morning! His father had no control, and his mother was off in the slums of some Nevarran town doing some charity project with one of her pupils. There was no one to tell his father off for him. Felix would have to do it himself.

“And Carver Hawke is the son of Malcolm Hawke and brother to Garrett Hawke, both well known and well respected mages in Ferelden and the Free Marches- and his sister is a Grey Warden and a mage! I can’t think of anyone who is more mage friendly!” Felix added. And Carver Hawke had not looked at him like he was a steaming pile of bronto shit, like so many other Altus mages in Tevinter did. Nor did he look at him like Felix would shed his skin and reveal himself to be a demon, like so many Southerners did when they thought he wasn’t looking. No, Carver Hawke looked at him with those bright blue eyes and then smiled.

“Oh, mage friendly, certainly.” His father said dryly. “That hardly means Tevinter friendly.”

“We’re already speaking on Eluvian. He’s been nothing but respectful and polite.” Felix replied. He had been speaking with Carver for nearly a year now, and he had been exceedingly careful about keeping his soulmate a secret. Not that he was ashamed of Carver, oh no! But he was cautious. Carver was special. He didn’t need all of Felix’s problems added to his own, and Felix did not want his father bothering his soulmate!

“He is hardly what I would have chosen for you, Felix.” Gereon said sorrowfully.

“It is lucky that the Maker has chosen, then. Or the Elvhen Pantheon, if you ask the Dalish. Or perhaps it is the Avvar spirits who tied me to Carver Hawke. But it certainly wasn’t you, Father, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t deride my soulmate in my presence.” Felix knew his words were harsh, even when he tried to keep his tone mild. He had thought his father would understand how it felt to finally meet his soulmate, to finally know that he was wanted- that despite all his shortcomings he had someone who simply fit with him.

“Peace, Felix.” His father eventually sighed. “I know better than to argue when your mind's made up.” He still sounded disapproving, the tone of a long-suffering parent. Felix shook his head and sighed. Always protective, Gereon Alexius, and he was often far too much!

“You and Mother have the sort of bond I want, Father.” Felix assured his father. “I want a partner in all matters. But I must be allowed to form that bond first. Please, trust me.” And when his father sighed again, Felix knew that he won this battle.

“Ah, Felix. You are far too good and wise.” His father chuckled. “And if your soulmate is half as loyal to you as Dorian is, you have made a good match.”

“Dorian? Father, what did you-” Felix asked.

“I tried to bribe him for information.” Gereon admitted without shame. “He told me to stick my bribe up my ass before he hung up on me. I am glad that his friendship with you is greater than any feelings of owed loyalty he has towards me.”

“Dorian’s a good man, Father. You should not test him so.” Felix scolded.

“I know. But you cannot fault me for trying.” His feather replied. “I am sorry for waking you, Felix.”

“Do it again and I will tell Mother.” Felix warned. “Good night, Father. Love you.”

“I love you too. Go sleep, I know how you run yourself down.” His father ordered before hanging up. Felix sighed and rolled back into his bed. He held his phone up, the bright LED light making him squint. But he carefully scrolled down to Dorian’s text thread and sent him a message.

“Father told me he tried to bribe you to snitch on me. I’m sorry he tested you, he should not have done that. But thank you for protecting my privacy.” Felix typed out. A few minutes later Felix got a reply.

“Fuck your father. Fuck fathers.” Dorian texted. “I need more wine. There’s a shortage here.”

“Where are you?” Felix asked. Dorian traveled extensively around Thedas, working in research labs, going to conferences, modeling on the side to get a little extra spending cash- and always, always avoiding Tevinter and his family. He had developed a network of friends who would let him crash at their homes for a night or two, and he maintained a small apartment in Val Royeux near Felix. It was an artist’s loft that had more clothes and book space than living space, a sort of large closet that Dorian occasionally visited and slept in. So it would come as no surprise if Dorian had left the city without saying a word. He often ran in and out without warning, turning up in the most unexpected places at the most unexpected times.

“Kirkwall. Visiting a friend.” That was Dorian’s response, and Felix felt his heart race in his chest. Kirkwall? Dorian was in Kirkwall and hadn’t said a word! Typical Dorian, of course, but if he was in Kirkwall-

“Which friend?” Felix asked, his fingers trembling against the glass of his phone. Dorian was in Kirkwall. Kirkwall! He could possibly run into Carver (crazy, but it was possible). Felix had spent the past year longing to drop everything and go to Kirkwall, to finally meet his soulmate in the flesh, and he was only a week or so away from finally being able to go- and Dorian might still meet his soulmate before he did! It felt petty to be jealous of Dorian, but Felix wanted to meet his soulmate first! Carver was his soulmate, not anyone else’s. Felix tried to calm the writhing tendrils of jealousy in his stomach. Dorian wasn’t going to snatch up Carver. Dorian had his own problems and life and would not try and steal a soulmate from a friend. Dorian Pavus was a good man, and Felix Alexius was behaving like a jealous fool.

“She’s nice. A cat lady who doesn’t party and has a painfully unfashionable wardrobe. You’d like her.” Dorian replied. “And no, I have not met your soulmate. I don’t plan to, unless I get arrested by a Templar and need someone to bail me out.” And despite the snarky tone to Dorian’s texts, Felix felt himself relax. Dorian, as always, seemed to root out his fears and bring them to light, laughing and making Felix laugh as well.

“She sounds lovely. And I am certain her wardrobe is comfortable and perfectly acceptable, you just don’t like it because it’s off-brand.” Felix texted, already chuckling because he knew Dorian would be making that irritated expression, where he scowled and raised an eyebrow and his mustache twitched just so- when Felix’s phone _pinged!_ with a message, Felix saw that Dorian sent a selfie. Felix laughed and flipped over onto his stomach, gazing at the photo Dorian sent.

Dorian was flipping off the camera, his face was set in that irritated, exasperated look. His right eyebrow was arched up, his lip was set in a thin line, he was grimacing, and Felix was certain that Dorian’s mustache was quivering in indignation. In the background of the selfie Felix saw the slightly out of focus image of a young woman sitting at the other end of the couch, curled up in a ball and watching the television. She had on baggy sweatpants and a large, ragged shirt, and there was a hideous yellow plaidweave blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her dark hair hung loose around her head, obscuring her face from view.

“Your friend?” Felix asked.

“Yes. She had a bad day.” Dorian texted back. “Another rejection letter from another soulmate agency. Bastard locked up his files. Guess that people with a mage soulmate can do that in the South.” Tevinter had its own problems with soulmates, especially in the higher ranks. Soulmates were damn inconvenient when trying to chart bloodlines to breed powerful mages, but no one would dream of keeping soulmates apart because they were mages! It was absurd!

“Barbaric.” Felix agreed, and he was forever grateful that Carver Hawke wanted to find him. He was grateful that Carver Hawke’s long silence was due to feelings of inadequacy, not rejection. Felix understood self-doubt. He didn’t think he would have been able to cope with rejection from his own soulmate.

“I like her blanket.” Felix added, wishing he could think of something kind to say. He disliked seeing or hearing of anyone in pain, and he felt a bond with this stranger, the young woman in sweatpants who was buried in an ugly blanket. They were both friends with Dorian, both of them tied together through his friendship.

“Ugh. You would.” Dorian texted back.

“What’s wrong with it? Looks comfy.” Felix replied.

“It’s yellow plaidweave, Felix. No one decorates their house with or wears yellow plaidweave. Ever.” Dorian texted, and Felix could almost hear Dorian speaking, his Qarinus accent light and dancing on the tip of his tongue as he spoke quickly and condescendingly. As if everyone knew the ins and outs of fashion as well as he did. Clothes horse, Felix thought fondly as he typed out his response.

“I like yellow.” Felix said, knowing full well that his mild response would enrage Dorian. Predictably, it did.

“I know you like yellow. Someday I’m going to steal that mustard yellow hoodie you insist on keeping, and I’m going to burn it under the light of a full moon. And I will dance around it. Naked.” Dorian declared. “And I will laugh.”

There was a pause, and then another text message came in from Dorian.

“And somehow your fashion faux pas has cheered Evelyn up immensely. She says that my eyebrows are about to fly off my forehead. This is the first time she’s laughed in hours, so thank you.”

“I’m glad your eyebrows are still attached to your forehead.” Felix replied. “You are proud of them. Sorry about my father.”

“It’s not your fault that fathers are a wretched lot.” Dorian stated. “I’ll talk to you later. Now that Evelyn’s in a better mood I’m going to drag her out to a bar.” Felix chuckled and rolled over onto his side before scrolling along and finding another thread of text messages.

“My father has somehow found out about us talking.” Felix texted Carver. The three little dots that indicated someone was composing a message started blinking immediately. Evidently Carver was still up. Or his text woke him up. How rude, Felix berated himself. It was absolutely bad manners to wake up his soulmate! Or was it? Felix could think of several very pleasant ways a soulmate- his soulmate- could wake him up.

“Is he pissed?” Carver asked immediately. “What do you need?”

“Worried. He worries too much about me.” Felix replied. “He’s begrudgingly letting me make my own choices regarding us.”

“He afraid that the big bad Ferelden is going to corrupt his precious child?” Carver teased, and Felix chuckled.

“Perhaps.” Felix texted. “Perhaps he’s afraid I’ll corrupt you.”

“Maybe I’m up for a little corruption.” Carver texted back, and he added that ridiculous little winking emoji. Felix giggled, even as he felt his cheeks grow hot and he wondered what sort of corruption he and Carver could engage in. Not that sex was corrupting, no of course not! They were just supposed to be the most corrupt, vile thing to the other- Southern Templar, Tevinter Mage. Neither shall the two meet.

Well, in their case they were meeting. And soon! Felix could hardly wait. Carver was everything Felix had ever wanted and then some. He listened, he smiled, he didn’t expect every word out of Felix’s mouth to be brilliant and revolutionary. He simply listened, and he gave his input and support and he cared. Felix liked that someone cared for him just because of who he was. There was no affiliation with his mother or father, nothing to do with status or his education. Carver liked Felix because he was Felix. He had never had that sort of support before.

“So you’re picking me up from the airport?” Felix asked, his mouth stretched wide in a foolish grin.

“Yeah. Tuesday at noon.” Carver replied. Felix nearly felt like giggling and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl.

“I’ll be wearing a yellow sweater.” Felix said. “So you can find me right away.”

“Babe, I’d recognize you anywhere.” Carver replied, and he added a little heart emoji a few seconds later.

“Flirt.” Felix texted, but he sent a heart right back. 

“Only with you.” Carver confessed, and Felix could hear the solemnity behind those words, and he could already hear Carver Hawke in his ear. His Ferelden accent was strong, but even with his rougher speech there was a tiny aristocratic Freemarcher lilt to it. His mother was Kirkwall nobility, so it was not a shock to know that her son picked up some of her mannerisms and speech patterns. It was a surprise to hear it in a young man who was built like a bruiser.

Felix was a bit shy to admit it, but Carver’s voice turned him on something fierce. He liked everything about Carver, everything that was good and everything that was bad. Felix liked the way he cared about everything, and the way he tried to hide that he cared. He liked Carver’s sense of loyalty and the fierce love he had for his family even when he criticized them. Felix liked that Carver was rough around the edges. He had spent his life coddled and guarded, but it was when he spoke with Carver that Felix felt safest.

“I should let you sleep.” Felix texted. “Good night, Carver.”

“Good night, Felix. Don’t stay up watching your stars, don’t you have that class you have to teach tomorrow?” Carver asked, and Felix grinned as he curled up in his bed. Only a few more days, and they would speak face to face! They would be together!

“Yes, at the planetarium. Thank you, Carver.” Felix replied. “Good night.” And once he put his phone back down on the nightstand Felix rolled onto his back and grinned up at his ceiling. Soon, he told himself. Soon he would meet his soulmate, and it was going to be perfect.

-

The plane touched down in steaming hot Kirkwall that Tuesday morning. While the sea breeze brought in the cool, the airport was far enough away from the shore that the air was hot and sticky on Felix’s skin. He went from the stale air of the plane, there was a moment of heat from the outside, and then he was inside the air conditioned airport terminal. He hurried through the airport, his carry on slung over his shoulder as he scanned the crowd, looking for a tall young man with dark hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Where was he, where was he, where was he-

“Felix?” A voice with the rough Ferelden accent, a voice Felix had heard so many times over the phone or the computer- and now it was here! He spun around and grinned up at the young man who stood nearby. Carver Hawke. His soulmate! He was here, really here, tall and handsome with those beautiful blue eyes and the shyest smile- his soulmate, the one person he could trust completely, and he was here!

“Carver!” Felix exclaimed. “You- it is good to see you. In the flesh.” Felix was close to flinging himself into Carver and hugging him tightly, but he held back just enough and held out his hand for a handshake. It wouldn’t do any good to frighten off his soulmate with his enthusiasm! But when Carver took his hand, and it was so warm and welcoming and calloused and perfect, well, who knew who moved first? They went from shaking hands to embracing in the middle of the airport terminal, holding each other so tightly that Felix hardly knew where he ended and Carver Hawke began.

“Good to see you.” Carver muttered into his hair. “You smell nice.”

“Mmmm. Thanks.” Felix nearly buried his face into Carver’s shoulder. Carver was so tall that Felix had to go up to his toes to reach Carver. He was going to climb him like a tree- no, that was the mark talking. Or was it? They had been talking for so long, and Felix had admired and liked Carver from the very first- he let himself down and took a step away. He had to breathe. He had to let Carver breathe!

“I- should we go?” Felix asked, staring up into Carver’s face. He was stunning! Felix felt a little insecure- Carver was tall and handsome and Felix was so short and- and ordinary! What did Carver think of him? But Carver was smiling and his blue eyes were sparkling, and Felix suddenly didn’t feel so anxious anymore.

“Yeah. We can drop your stuff off at my place, then go for lunch. Breakfast? Brunch?” Carver shrugged. “I dunno.” He did not let go of Felix’s hand as he pulled him along and out into the sunshine.

“That sounds perfect.” Felix replied. “I haven’t eaten yet.” Even the snack of pretzels on the plane did nothing to cut through his hunger. Felix was ashamed to say that his stomach was rumbling.

“Me neither.” Carver confessed. “Nerves, I guess.” His pale face was flushed, and Felix was certain it wasn’t from the heat. This giant of a man faced down demons and magical mishaps without flinching, and he was nervous about meeting Felix? Felix hesitantly nudged Carver with his elbow.

“You better show me around all of Kirkwall. It’s my first time here, after all.” Felix said, trying to be suave. What would Dorian say, what would Dorian do? But he felt clumsy and unsure and whatever the opposite of Dorian Pavus was. Maker help him! But Carver just grinned, looking less like a handsome man and more like a mischievous boy, and squeezed Felix’s hand.

“I’ve got a few ideas. Come on.” Carver said, and off they went. Carver drove around Kirkwall, pointing out different buildings and monuments in his own quiet, Carver way. There’s the Viscount’s Keep. There’s the newspaper, the Kirkwall Herald. My brother works there. Go down the street and take the first left, and you end up in Darktown. There was no history or poetic descriptions, just practical knowledge and a few stories of his life. Felix loved it.

The first thing they did was find food. They bought a few hot pastries and coffee from an Antivan food truck and found a quiet park to sit in and just- just talk. Felix could hardly remember what he said, but Carver listened and smiled and laughed, and Felix never once felt like he was rambling or foolish or wrong-headed. And when Carver spoke, offering his input and ideas, Felix hung onto every word like a fish caught on a hook. Carver had once told him that he didn’t think he was particularly brilliant, but everything he said, everything he did, pointed to a clever, quick thinking mind. Carver listened, he asked questions, he was curious and interested- of course he didn’t know technical terminology, but hardly anyone did! Felix was just pleased that Carver was interested in what he had to say!

“Most people stare politely and their eyes glaze over, like this.” Felix explained before he imitated the dull-eyed polite stare he was accustomed to. “Studying in Orlais has been wonderful, but if I take a step out of my department I can never find anyone to talk to. And I constantly run into people who hate me for being a Tevinter mage.”

“Happens when you live in Val Royeux.” Carver replied. “When Stannard and Elthina were in power, it was a bad time for mages. Paperwork, midnight raids, lots of deportations and holdings… sometimes I think that Bethy left for more than one reason, you know?” He sighed and ran a large hand through his dark hair. Felix reached out and gripped Carver’s other hand in his own.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Felix asked. Carver looked so despondent, and Felix wished he knew how to draw him out of that sadness. With Dorian it was easy because they had known each other for so long. Felix only had to gently prod and tease and draw Dorian out of his sullen silence, and when Dorian got snippy Felix would be soothing and let Dorian talk.

Carver, Felix knew, was a different beast entirely. He got quiet and withdrawn, but teasing and prodding did not work with him. He had siblings who did that, so Carver was immune to such a technique. The one technique Felix knew to get Carver to talk was to be direct. Blunt, even. Being honest and a little rude got Carver talking.

“Nah.” Carver smiled weakly at him, but it was a genuine smile. “Just thinking about something Bethany said. She called me a perfectionist.”

“Hmmm?” Felix raised his eyebrows and let the silence between them invite Carver to speak.

“Just- you know how I didn’t go after you as soon as I was old enough?” Carver mumbled. “Thought I didn’t deserve you. Didn’t do anything to get paired up with someone like you. Smart and nice and cute.” Throughout Carver’s little speech, Felix felt himself flush with pleasure and a bit of embarrassed pride. Carver thought he was cute? Of course he does, Felix told himself. Carver called him a mixture of pet names and often said he was cute, adorable, beautiful, gorgeous, handsome- but there was something to be said about hearing it in person!

“I was so flustered when I got your message, and then the letter. And the moment I saw your picture I panicked a little. It was so bad I had to call Dorian!” Felix confessed shyly.

“You called Dorian?” Carver asked, sounding a little surprised. “Didn’t know that.”

“I needed my best friend to calm me down. He’s got a caustic tongue on him, so when I started rambling about how you looked godlike and that I wasn’t worthy he put me in the right head space again.” Felix said with a laugh. “He said that your siblings probably have a dozen horror stories they’ve been saving up for me to hear and that those will change my mind very quickly about your god-hood.” Carver, for his part, laughed and pulled Felix into a tight embrace.

“You.” Carver muttered. “You are cute.”

“Thank you.” Felix replied. “You’re pretty cute yourself.” He wrapped his arms around Carver and let himself relax against Carver’s body. His warm body. His warm, large, strong body. Felix blushed and pulled away, though he still held Carver’s hand.

“I, uh- where should we go next?” Felix asked hastily. Carver squeezed his hand and grinned before leading him back to his car.

“Got a list with some shit. We can go to museums, or we can run around and do the dumb tourist shit.” Carver said as he buckled his seat belt. “I was thinking a walk around Hightown Market. There’s this art fair going on.”

“You like art?” Felix asked.

“Eh. Enough that it’s fun to look around.” Carver replied. “What do you think?”

“Sounds like fun!” Felix enthused, and he and Carver spent the morning and afternoon at an arts and crafts fair. It was the strangest and most exciting afternoon Felix had spent in… in ages, Felix realized. There were no tours, no educational purpose, no lesson to be learned. He and Carver held hands, stared at art both wonderful and strange, and enjoyed themselves and each other. Carver laughed, smiled, bought Felix a bag of candied nuts- and Felix went up to his toes and gave Carver a quick peck on the cheek. Felix was pleased when Carver’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and stayed that way for some time. They ended the day at a bar owned by an acquaintance of Carver’s.

“Fenris usually mans the bar, but he’s got a night off. Isabela has some other bartenders on Fridays so Fenris can get his ‘me’ time.” Carver explained. “I have no idea what Fenris does during his me time. I think he looks at porn, but he insists that they’re artistic nudes so….” Carver shrugged and let the sentence hang unfinished in the air. Felix smiled and nudged Carver’s ribs with his elbow. Being around Carver felt natural, as if he had known him all his life. Was it hormones? The connection between soulmates? Or was Carver Hawke simply comfortable to be around?

“Fenris is your friend from Tevinter.” Felix remarked. “The one who was surprisingly neutral about you having a mage soulmate from Tevinter.”

“I think he said something about you being fortunate?” Carver shrugged his shoulders. “Fenris is an enigma.”

“And yet he told you that he looks at artistic nudes.” Felix stated. “He doesn’t seem so complex to me.” Felix always found Carver’s comments on his friends and family interesting. There was an obvious warmth and care in his voice, but it was always shrouded by gruff words. It was as if Carver was afraid to say soft words, as if it was dangerous. It was always dangerous to say what you truly felt, Felix thought a little sadly. Words have power.

“He said it was research? I mentioned that you’d be in town and that we were meeting up yesterday. It’s been an amazing day, being with you.” Carver said. He flagged down the bartender, a dwarven girl with chestnut hair and a sweet smile, and ordered something from Ferelden. Felix didn’t know what. He barely drank.

“I’ve had an amazing day with you too, Carver.” Felix said as they waited for their drinks. Carver had been fun and easy to talk to, and Felix never found it easy to open up to strangers. He rarely opened up to anyone, now that he thought about it. He was friendly, of course, but he always held himself in reserve, waiting for betrayal. But he didn’t hide from Carver. He felt safe with Carver around, like nothing could happen to him, like he was free to be himself.

Felix never wanted that feeling to end.

“I, uh, Maker this feels stupid, but I was wondering-” Carver mumbled, his face flushing pink and beautiful. Felix smiled and bent his head closer to Carver’s. 

“Yes?” Felix asked softly.

“Can I kiss you?” Carver blurted out. He gazed earnestly at Felix, and Felix looked up at him shyly. Carver was biting his lip, gripping his plush lower lip between his teeth. What would it be like to kiss Carver? Felix had been thinking about it for ages, ever since he realized he had sexual desires. He wondered what it would be like to kiss a soulmate, his soulmate. And once he knew who his soulmate it was Felix couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Carver. Now he didn’t have to wait. He could find out.

“Yes.” Felix murmured. “Yes, you can.”

It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t a wildfire, an inferno of desire and passion. It was warm. Soft. Hesitant. Shy. But it was comforting. It was just the press of Carver’s mouth, firm and dry, against his own, but Felix’s heart beat faster as he tilted his head and responded. And when he pulled away, Felix wanted to return. When he was with Carver he felt welcomed, treasured, cared for.

With Carver, Felix no longer felt alone.

“That… that was-” Felix whispered before leaning in close and resting his forehead against Carver’s. “That was…”

“Wow.” Carver murmured. His voice was strained. It sounded as if he had had a cold. He sounded a bit wrecked, and Felix marveled that he had had such an effect on the man.

“Yeah, wow.” Felix agreed. They were silent for a little while, soaking in the feeling of a first kiss, of a first date, of a first physical meeting of soulmates. Sometimes, Felix reflected, it was just nice to sit together and enjoy the silence. Carver eventually broke the silence with a small chuckle. He squeezed Felix’s hands with his own.

“So.” Carver said softly. “I have some vacation time saved up. Was thinking of making a trip in a month or two. I hear Val Royeux is pretty nice in the winter.” And when Felix gaped at him, Carver had the gall to grin and wink. For as much as Carver claimed that he wasn’t good with people, he certainly knew when to be charming! Felix was very charmed.

“How interesting.” Felix murmured with a grin of his own. “I was thinking of taking a research post in Kirkwall for the summer. Might expand on it, if things work out.” Carver’s grin grew wider, and Felix smiled back in kind. Carver’s hand cupped Felix’s cheek, and Felix let Carver turn his head up towards him.

“I’m pretty good at making things work.” Carver murmured, his lashes shading his blue eyes so dark they looked nearly black. “Especially when I’m motivated.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Felix replied, and he kissed his soulmate for the second time in a bar in Kirkwall, and it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally wrote the second chapter to this little fic! First new writing on ao3 for 2018, and it's to complete an unfinished fic! Hopefully this is a good omen!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy this bit of shameless fluff!

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of "Haunted House Hunters" is a joke show pitch my brother created, in which a real estate agent and a ghost hunter/psychic team up to sell houses. The real estate talks about the house, and the psychic demands that they cleanse the house of spirits. I figured Thedas would have something weird like that on their version of HGTV.


End file.
